


Tadaima

by uchiuchi



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Through the Years, cries because it's real, harumakotokyo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uchiuchi/pseuds/uchiuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Makoto welcomes Haru home, and five times "home" is redefined for Haru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tadaima

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in so long, I apologize. ;; BUT IM BACK. And crying as hard as ever over Makoharu god they're so disgusting please save me from this hell.

**seven**

It's snowing. 

It's cold.

And Haru has wanted nothing more than to go home ever since his father had taken him to go and buy groceries. He's not even sure why he  _had_ to go, just knows that he'd been dragged along before he could even think about it. How annoying.

"Haruka, let me take the bags." He's shaken from his thoughts and looks up at his father, handing the items away without a word and waving his fingers to get the circulation in them going again. His father turns the knob and Haru, with frostbitten pink cheeks, wipes his snow-covered shoes on the mat outside the door and walks in after him. 

"Ah, Haruka!" He looks in the direction of his mother’s voice and sees her sitting with another woman, tea in both their hands. He narrows his eyes. That was—?

"Haru-chan!" rings another voice and Makoto comes tumbling down the stairs, the biggest grin on his face. He stops in front of Haru and stares, just stares at him, for the longest time and before Haru asks what he’s doing and why he’s blocking the way — he can still feel the cool night air behind him — Makoto takes both of his hands into his own. "Okaeri!"

Haru blinks. Their mothers laugh. Makoto looks expectant.

"What do you say back, Haruka?"

He blinks again, keeping his eyes on Makoto. Honestly, how troublesome. The greeting isn't anything special. Isn’t it just to welcome back someone to the place where they slept? Ate? He doesn’t understand the importance. But he can’t be rude in front of his mother, and Makoto is  _really_ good at holding his gaze. In response, he murmurs a small “Tadaima.”

Makoto’s eyes seem to get brighter. “Let’s go play! I got better at stacking the blocks!"

"Okay."

"…Or should we go outside? I don’t know what we could do, though. It’s really cold.”

Haru shifts where he's standing. "I… We… could try and make an igloo," Haru suggests. "If you want."

"Ah, really? You know how?" Makoto laughs and Haru’s cheeks warm. "Well I’m not surprised. Haru-chan’s so talented!"

He heaves a sigh. “I’m not really—”

"Let’s go then!" Makoto lets go of Haruka’s right hand and tugs on his left, leading him back into the cold, but not before putting on his own jacket. "We could make it our very own home. Wouldn’t that be cool? A place for just the two of us."

"I guess," Haru replies dryly, but the corners of his mouth fight down a smile, his day feels brighter — how did it always get this way when Makoto was around? — and by the way Makoto looks over his shoulder and lets out another laugh, he knows he’s been caught.

 

**fifteen**

"We should start working on our project this weekend."

"Mm."

"It would be better to do it at your house, just so Ran and Ren don’t distract us."

"Sure."

"And then we could— Haru? Where are you going?"

Haruka stops in his tracks, about to go up the stairs, and turns to Makoto with raised brows. “Home.”

"Why?"

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

Makoto points behind him. “We’re having dinner soon.”

Realization dawns on Haru and he turns, hiding his face from Makoto. “I’ve had dinner at your house every day for the past week,” he says, as if Makoto had somehow forgotten, as if that would change the brunet’s mind.

It doesn’t. “You know that’s not a problem, Haru. Especially since your parents moved away last week, it’s… well… you know.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I — I mean, we — don’t want you all alone.”

Something builds in Haru’s chest and he lets out a quiet  _I see_  before continuing up the stairs. Before Makoto can protest, Haruka throws an “I need to change first” in his direction and then walks just a bit faster when he hears a laugh echo behind him.

Haru slides open the door to his home and steps inside, met with a startlingly loud silence. It’s like the emptiness of his house is intensifying, ringing in his hear, and so he quickly pulls off his uniform and changes into more comfortable clothing before heading back out and down the stairs.

He stops right outside the door and is about to knock when he hears two high-pitched shrieks coming from inside. The entrance whips open and two pairs of arms wrap around his legs. "Haru-chan! We were waiting for you!”

Of course they were. He smiles down at them, ruffling their hair. “I’m here.”

They giggle and, as if they'd rehearsed it, bellow out a “You’re home!” 

Haru blinks, nods, and doesn't reply because he's not sure what to say to that. Then someone comes to a stop right behind the twins, someone taller than he is, and he looks up at Makoto smiling, like always, a stack of plates in his hand. “We made mackerel. Just for you,” he says, and then more softly, “Okaeri, Haru-chan.”

_Ah, so that's where they got it from._

Haru huffs out a laugh, taking the twins’ hands in his and following after Makoto. “Tadaima.”

 

**eighteen**

"Don’t forget your bag," Rin lectures as they step off the plane, grabbing his own and swinging it over his shoulder. "Not that it would matter. You barely have anything in there."

"Not my fault I only had an hour to pack," Haru mutters, ignoring the way Rin rolls his eyes.

Whatever. He knows he’s right.

"So. How was it?"

"How was what?"

"The airplane food." Haru throws Rin a look. "Are you seri— Your first trip outside of Japan, dumbass. What else would I be talking about?"

Haru presses his lips together. “Fine.”

"Just fine?"

"More than fine," Haru divulges, thinking back to all that he saw, all that he learned, the dream he finally got to reach out to and grab a hold of. 

"That’s more like it," Rin says, smacking him on the back. "But I bet you can’t wait to get home, can you?"

Home.

Haru’s stomach drops.

His home.

The one next to Makoto’s.

Makoto.

Suddenly, he isn't as excited to coming back as he’d originally been.

"Hey, you okay?"

"I’m fine," he says, and he knows that Rin’s not stupid enough to believe him, but his tone holds a sense of finality, and so Rin doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead they walk in silence, past security, past luggage claim, closer and closer to the exit and Haru's dreading every second.

"Haru! Rin!"

Haruka turns, eyes widening.

_Oh no._

"Makoto?" Rin laughs, making a beeline towards him with Haru right on his heels. "You came all this way to meet us?"

"You must be tired after your trip," Makoto says, smiling at the both of them.

A lump forms in Haru’s throat as he tries to form words, opens and closes his mouth as he tries to force something to come out.

_What do I say?_

_Should I say anything?_

What could he even say, what words could he  _possibly_ string together, that would put through just how sorry, just how wrong, just how much he’d missed him while abroad and how much he’d wished he could take it all back and—

"Haru."

Haruka’s thoughts are stopped right in their track as he looks up, heart beating so loud he can barely hear.

"Okaeri."

And that’s all it takes. That one word puts a blanket of ease over Haru’s heart and he opens his mouth again to say something, to express all that he’s feeling, fighting back tears before realizing that Makoto can see it all anyway. For close to eighteen years, a glance between the two of them was all it took, and now, even after their fight, nothing had changed.

"…Tadaima."

And Makoto smiles. 

 

**twenty**

Thirteen.

That’s how many laps Haru had done after his coach’s initial “Just one more!” And each one had increased his fatigue and made him sore in places he’d never been sore before. 

Thirty four minutes.

That’s the amount of time he had to wait for the train because he’d missed the one he usually goes on. The amount of time he had to stand in the cold because he’d forgotten his jacket at the pool in his haste to get out.

Fifteen minutes.

That’s how long he had to stand on the train, squished between a small kid who kept bending down to tie his shoe and a loud man who kept yelling into his phone. 

Eight minutes.

That’s how long it took him to walk to his home, no, to  _their_ home. It’s how long he thought about dropping onto the floor right when he went inside, eating dinner that he knows will probably be too salty but still delicious, and sleeping with warmth blanketing him from every angle.

Twelve seconds.

That’s how long it took for him to wipe his shoes at the mat, knock on the door, and be pulled inside by a waiting pair of arms that hugged him close and refused to let go.

"You’re late."

"Coach."

"Again?"

"Mm."

"I’m sorry." A kiss on the forehead, and then the figure’s pulling back and he can finally look Makoto in the eyes. "But you’re finally here."

"Finally," Haru sighs in relief, then sniffs the air. "…Something’s burning."

Makoto smiles sheepishly. “Okaeri, Haru.”

Haru smacks him in the chest and walks past him towards the kitchen. “Tadaima,” he says warmly, and then, “You big idiot.”

"Hey!"

 

**twenty-three**

The plates drop from Haruka’s hands when he hears the familiar rustle of keys at the front door. Throwing off his apron, he speeds into the living room and watches as the entrance swings open, a face poking in and a smile lighting it up.

"Makoto," he breathes.

A small chuckle, and then, “Haru.”

He doesn’t waste a moment. Barely a second later, he’s tumbling into the taller man’s arms and burying his face into his chest, cheeks flushing when the other laughs. “Did you miss me that much?”

"Of course."

"Mm." Makoto places his fingers under Haru’s chin and tilts his head up, blue meeting green. "I missed you too, Haru-chan."

Haru ignores the name. Now was not the time. “How was your flight?”

"Good. Kind of long. I’m tired," Makoto admits. "And hungry. It smells really good in here."

"Green curry," Haru explains, fighting down a smirk at the way Makoto’s face lights up.

"What would I do without you, Haru?"

"Not anything I could do without you," he murmurs in reply, throwing his arms around Makoto’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

They sigh against each other’s lips, Makoto softly grabbing at Haru’s sides and pulling him closer, as close as he could. Haru's grasp gets stronger and he can feel his feet rising off the ground as Makoto pulls him up to kiss him harder, probably not realizing he was doing it in the first place. “Tadaima.”

"Okaeri," Haruka mumbles happily, before something in him shifts and his lips begin to slow against Makoto’s before coming to a stop altogether. He pulls away with a small huff.

Makoto blinks. “Haru?”

"It doesn’t feel right."

"Eh?" Makoto looks down. "My shirt? Well I still have some trouble ironing so maybe I burnt—"

"Not the shirt, dummy." When Makoto throws him a puzzled look, he explains, "What you said."

"What I said? What did I say?" He thinks back. "I had a long flight?"

"After that."

"It smells good in here?"

"After."

"…Tadaima?" he tries, and when Haru doesn’t say anything, Makoto’s face falls. "Should I not say that?"

"It’s not that." The brunet perks back up. "It’s just that I should say that. I think."

Makoto tilts his head to the side, lips parting in confusion. “But you didn’t go anywhere?”

Haru looks to the side, feeling red bloom across his cheeks. "I don’t have to  _go_ anywhere. I just have to come back.” 

"...Haru, I’m not following."

The boy sighs. “I’m back. In your arms.” He slowly turns towards Makoto to meet his gaze full-on. “Home.”

Makoto's breath hitches and Haru so desperately wants to hide his face, like he's done for so long, but he doesn't, because Makoto needs to _see_ how much me means it. He needs to understand that there's only ever been four instances Haru's said he's home, three instances it wasn't even his actual home, two instances it wasn't even in the same _city_ as his actual home, and one person who's been there for each and every single one of them. 

In the two weeks that Makoto'd been away, Haru had felt like a complete and utter idiot when he'd finally realized that home wasn't a place.

It was a person.

All is silent for a few seconds before a “Haru…” breaks the quiet and Haru takes in Makoto’s cheeks, wet with tears, and his grin, as bright as ever. “Okaeri.”

Haru's smile reaches his eyes. “Tadaima.”


End file.
